"True," she answered. But whether she heard or not was another matter. "What's Mark Cray about?" she presently asked, somewhat abruptly. "Doing any more harm?"
"I hear he is not doing any good. There's no practice in Honfleur."
"No politics?"
"Practice."
"Nobody in their senses would have thought there was. Perhaps he expects to get up a mining scheme there, and dazzle the French."
"If he is to do any good for himself, he must come over and get clear of the mining scheme here," observed Oswald.
Miss Davenal nodded her head and drew in her lips. It was not often that she condescended to make the slightest allusion to Mark Cray.
Mrs. Cray was asleep when they entered. She lay on the couch hastily improvised for her, dressed, and covered with a warm counterpane. One hand was under her wan cheek, the other lay outside, white, attenuate, cold. Miss Bettina Davenal took one look; one look only with those keen eyes of hers. It was quite enough, and an exclamation of dismay broke from her lips. Caroline opened her eyes and gazed around in bewilderment.
"Aunt Bettina! Have they brought you to see me? Will you take me in for a day or two until I can go back?"
"I have come for you," said Miss Bettina.